Pour Down On Me
by 1967Impala
Summary: The Winchesters are more different than you'd think...
1. Rain, Rain

A/N: I know, I know, another Dean and the rain fic...I'm hoping that you'll still read it and like it! I wrote it during math...

* * *

Dean Winchester loved the rain. He loved the emptiness of the world when it rained. People cooped up in their houses. Dean would watch as they randomly stuck a head or a hand out the front door to see if it was "safe" to come out. Wimps. Scared of a little rain, running away from it like it was a Wendigo coming after them. Imagine if something from his world came after them. Imagine if something was in their safe, quiet, little suburb. The last place a normal person would think an evil spirit would haunt. But here it was and so here was Dean. It was why he was here. It was why he was anywhere. Another town, another vengeful spirit, another Job. But the normal people were oblivious as usual, content to stick a hand out the door to see how hard it was raining. Maybe that's why Dean would never be the textbook definition of normal. He had to know things. He couldn't be content not knowing everything. Then again, if he didn't know what was really out there, what was waiting for him to come seek it, to kill it, maybe, just maybe he might have some chance of being content. But for now, he loved being the freak.

Dean cruised down the deserted streets, wishing he could splash in puddles like he used to when he was a kid, when Mom was still alive. But instead he slowly drove, opposed to his normal speeding that sprayed the puddles onto sidewalks and buildings. He turned another corner and spotted the library where he was supposed to meet Sam.

He pulled into the parking lot and spotted a place up front but he didn't take it. It wasn't a handicapped place but he decided to treat himself to a little harmless pleasure and it would annoy Sam so it was doubly fun. He parked in the very back of the lot and got out of the Impala, a shiny black now that it had been washed by the rain. Dean stood beside the muscle car and breathed in the clean scent of the rain, relishing in the sweet drops that seemed to float down into his head, shoulders, and torso. Slowly he walked towards the slightly run down building. He spotted a large, semi deep puddle next to the sidewalk. He paused in front of it. Nah, Sammy would kill me, Dean thought. He stepped around it, barely getting the tip of his boots wet.

He glanced down the street and saw a mother and two little boys walking towards him. He paused to watch them. They boys were pushing each other into puddles, laughing as their mother tried to stop them. Dean grinned and thought of how wild he had been at that age. Sam had been quieter, more into reading than tussling. Dean tore his gaze from the giggling brothers and walked up the steps into the library where his own brother was waiting. He didn't want to go inside. So he stood on the top step for a couple more seconds. God, how he loved the rain.

* * *

A/N: So? Review it please!!

* * *


	2. Go Away, Come Again Another Day

A/N: I decided to put up Sam's thoughts on the rain. I didn't get much of a response on the last chapter but THANK YOU to those that did read it! Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Sam Winchester waited impatiently as he watched his brother walk up the steps. He sighed, knowing Dean could move faster. He rolled his eyes as Dean finally reached the top step, reached for the door and then hesitated. Sam flung open the door, almost whacking his brother in the face. Dean jumped in a very un-Dean-like manner. Dean punched Sam in the arm, harder than playfully, but not hard enough to mean anything serious. Sam punched him back and looked disgustedly at Dean. He was soaking wet. Dean grinned and shrugged. Sam knew better than to ask so he just led Dean over to where he had gathered all the information about the mansion that was home to an evil spirit. They didn't know how and they didn't know why. All they knew was that is was up to them. No other hunter that they knew of was around. Not that that bothered them. They preferred working by themselves. But sometimes allies, those that could be called friends, were wanted around.

Sam finished telling Dean about the clean history on the house. Both puzzled at the outcome of Sam's research, they walked outside. Sam watched as Dean tried to inconspicuously take a lungful of the rain scented air. Dean jogged down the slippery steps and slowly started to walk across the parking lot towards the Impala. Sam groaned and shuffled after him, grumbling all the way. He stuffed his research inside his jacket to keep it dry. He walked past an empty space and paused. He looked pointedly at Dean who laughed wickedly and kept walking. Sam walked after him, hunched over so he didn't get too wet.

Sam hated the rain. He hated the emptiness of it. It reminded him of loss. People holed up and made the world seem empty. Sam's world was running on empty. Dean acted like the last bit of gas in a car, threatening to run out at anytime, considering what they did for a "living". That got annoying, every person they try to save always asking them, "And this is what you guys do for a living?" Sam was tired of trying to explain it. Dean never did try to help. He just flashed a grin and shrugged as Sam tried to figure what to say.

Rain always came at the right times too. Pathetic fallacy, he thought he remembered his English teacher in ninth grade call it. It rained when bad things happened to him. It never failed. Rain and darkness surrounded his life. Everything he and Dean did revolved around the dark. "The freaks come out at night" as Dean had once said. Dean had said it as a joke as he said most things, but Sam had taken a deeper meaning to it. He, Sam, was the freak. And he and his brother always went to finish the job at night.

Sam finally reached the Impala and realized Dean was far behind, looking wistfully at a puddle. _What the…_ Sam thought. He shook his head. It was better not to ask sometimes around Dean. Sam watched as Dean toed the top of the puddle with his big boot. It was an oxymoron. Dean, the big tough guy with the big biker boots, refraining himself from playing in a puddle. Sam rolled his eyes and knocked on the trunk of the Impala to grab Dean's attention. Dean looked up, annoyed that his little brother was about to spoil his fun. Sam held up his hands and then gestured Dean to hurry up and open the doors of the Impala. Dean rolled his eyes and jogged to the car. He opened the doors and started the engine as Sam jumped in, out of the pouring, hated rain. God, how he hated the rain.

* * *

A/N: So? Good? Bad? Wonderful? Awful? Review please!!!! pretty pretty please!!! 


	3. Little Johnny Wants To Play

A/N: Okay guys, here it is! The third installment! Thanks to sitonkia for giving me her input on it before I posted it! If you haven't already, check out her fics, they are amazing!

* * *

John Winchester was cooped up in a motel room, across the county from his boys. Neither father nor sons knew they were so close to each other. Different hunts, same county. John was ready to go out and hunt tonight but it was pouring down rain. His better judgment told him not to, but when did he ever listen to reason? He was John Winchester, hunter extraordinaire. What could a lowly spirit do to him? Besides, he didn't mind the rain. It was just weather. He didn't mind it. He wished it wouldn't come on a hunting day, but you can't stop nature. That was something he had learned in the Marines. Work through anything. He had taught that to Sam and Dean, but he always knew Sammy wasn't one for rain. Dean on the other hand, he had always loved the rain. He wasn't sure why, just always had.

John shrugged on his coat and exited the motel. He walked through the rain, not slowly like Dean, not running like Sam, but at his normal pace. He got into his truck and made sure he had everything he needed. Rock salt, check. Lighter fluid, check. Lighter, check. Shovel, check. He looked out the window at the rain. It was steadily getting heavier. Could he pull off burning the bones in this rain? He really didn't want to stick around a whole day longer than he had planned. He got out of the truck and checked to see if he had a tarp incase the weather got worse. He climbed back into the truck and drove towards the cemetery, windshield wipers on full blast. John drove like it was any other day. The rain didn't bother him at all.

When he reached the cemetery he grabbed what he needed out of the trunk. He set up the tarp, keeping the grave he was digging dry so that the flames wouldn't get put out. He face dripped with the water but he didn't notice. He dug up the grave, poured the fluid and threw in the lighter. Thanks to the tarp, the flames went up, sufficiently burning the bones, killing the vengeful spirit. John gathered his supplies and returned to his black truck that he could barely see in the wet darkness. After he threw his things in the back of the truck, he climbed into the front seat. Only then did he realize how wet he was. He shrugged and wiped the drops from his face. He smiled. Another spirit gone from the world. God, how he loved the hunt.

* * *

A/N: So? What did you guys think? How did I do with my first John POV? I think you guys know this already but please review!!


	4. The End

A/N: Here it is, the last chapter. Enjoy it please!

* * *

She watches the three constantly. It doesn't matter if they are together or not. She is bonded to each of them so distance isn't a problem. She takes the rain in without feeling it. She can't decide whether the rain is good or not. Sometimes it comes at perfect times, other times not so much. The rain runs her, giving a hazy shape that a person can only see if they know what they are looking for. The three she watches know what they are looking for most of the time, which is why the spirit couldn't decide if rain was a good thing or not.

She watches first as one of them relaxes in the rain. He always did love the rain, even more so lately. She wanted to know him better. He wasn't there for near as long as she expected him to be. Or was it the other way around? Who was missing who? She could watch over him. But it was awful not be able to touch him, to comfort him in his seemingly never ending pain.

She then watches as the youngest stomps through the rain. He used to enjoy it. Or did he simply enjoy it because the older boy did? He always looked up to him, with good reason too. But since she had been watching he had grown apart from the other two. She knows he's still hurting but she thinks that he knows better than to take it out on others.

Lastly she watches as the oldest man walks through rain with a shovel and a tarp. He glances around occasionally, seeing something out of the corner of his eye. She knows that he wouldn't admit it but he knows it's her that he's seeing in the rain. He wouldn't admit it because there's too much pain to remember. But he has to remember everyday. Because everyday he has to hunt down another evil thing that reminds him of what happened to his family that cold night in November. She can't forget it either. How could she? It's the last real moment she had with her family. She would hold onto that last memory of putting the youngest to sleep forever. God, how Mary loves her boys.

* * *

A/N: I hope that it wasn't too confusing. All right then guys, review it please!!


End file.
